boxed fluoride
by Flashing The Floods
Summary: Things just kind of float. Except not really. Crap. Castiel/Lysander slash crap. Wet, radioactive garbage flavor.


**Author's Note: Well. Uh...I dunno. More crap. Crappy, disjointed, mediocre, tasteless, disjointed, useless, disjointed crap. Crap, crap, crap. Some pervyness ahead and whatnot. No smut though, cause like, rules and whatnot. But still perversion, beware of perversion~! And like, um, lil' bit of recreational drug use.**

* * *

Castiel kisses him in between songs, when the lyrics are still fresh on Lysander's lips and the stage lights accent the shine of sweat on his face. His eyes are bright, gleaming with bliss and when he kisses him he can taste his energy, vivid, crackling, hot. It's a good time to kiss him because he's raw-beautiful when he's like this. It's a good time to kiss him because he can pass it off as a gimmick, something for the fans to get wild over that was actually Rosalya's suggestion.

It's a good time to kiss him because they're only halfway through their set and there's no time for Lysander to react to it or question it. And Lysander doesn't question it. He makes a quiet noise of surprise and kisses him back, flicking his tongue over Castiel's lips.

Rosalya was right, the crowd eats it up. Hyped, giddy, feminine squealing reaches a crescendo in the audience. Castiel resumes his place, keenly aware of what he just did and still not quite believing that he just did it. He's wanted to for awhile now and he's reeling, but he covers it up under getting through the songs and uses his guitar as an anchor against this weightless sensation.

He holds up until the end of the night, but not once does the warmth of Lysander's mouth leave his lips and his head is still buzzing when they start packing up the equipment, kinetic thrumming in his blood.

"I think that went pretty well," he says.

"Very well," Lysander agrees, humming thoughtfully as he packs his microphone up. "But you shouldn't tease me like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Lysander freezes for only a moment. "Oh, nothing."

"Nothing," Castiel repeats, drawling both syllables disbelievingly.

Lysander turns to him, cheeks dusted in rose. "Well now I want you to kiss me again."

Castiel closes the gap and kisses him again, a soft, exploratory butterfly kiss just on the corner of his mouth. Lysander returns in kind, hands gently cupping his face.

When he draws back, he doesn't draw far. He breathes a sigh and touches foreheads.

"Does...Does this change anything?" asks Castiel.

"It could," Lysander says. "It could, but it doesn't have to if you don't want it to."

"I want it to. Just— Just not everything."

"Not everything." Lysander seals the promise with another warm kiss.

.

And it doesn't change much, really. They always did those kinds of things that seemed to blur the line between what was platonic and what wasn't. Sitting in each other's laps when no one else was around. Sleeping in the same bed even if there was a perfectly good couch available. Walking close enough to brush fingers when there was enough room on he sidewalk for three people and a dog.

Maybe that stuff would've seemed normal if they were childhood friends or something, but hell, they'd really only known each other a little over two years. They just happened to click like it'd been a lot longer. Kindred souls, or some sappy shit like that.

All that changes is the establishment that they've crossed that line into something that isn't necessarily deeper but definitely different in a very intimate kind of way. Now they kiss in each other's laps, fold into each other on that bed until the sheets are imprinted with their whole shape, walk with their fingers unbreakably entwined.

"Nina actually asked me out," Lysander tells him with an amused smile while he's using his chest as a pillow.

Castiel snorts. "What'd you tell her?"

"That I was flattered by her consideration but currently in a relationship. I almost added that she was a little too young for me. Though she looked like she was about to cry, so I didn't."

"She didn't ask who?"

"No." Lysander hums and idly runs his fingers through Castiel's hair. "She blushed ferociously, apologized, and ran away in that order."

"Well...Do you wanna tell people?" Castiel blinks. "I know you like your privacy..."

"I wouldn't mind telling people," murmurs Lysander.

"You parents wouldn't get pissed or anything?"

They were old after all, and it seemed like old people got more pissed about this kinda stuff than anything.

"I think they thought Leigh was gay when he dropped out of school for a fashion career. They encouraged him wholeheartedly and they're very supportive of the both of us, so I'd be shocked if they disapproved." Lysander stops stroking his hair and tilts his head. "How about yours?"

Castiel sits up and pulls out the nightstand drawer, pawing around for a smoke. "Dunno. They're not religious or anything, but they might think it's weird. Too weird to be right."

"We don't have to tell anyone," Lysander says. "I don't mind being your secret, either."

"My secret?" Castiel scoffs.

"I thought it sounded romantic," teases Lysander.

Castiel gives him a playful shove in the shoulder and then fishes a cigarette out of the drawer. He lights it and ruminates as he inhales.

"My parents aren't here and I don't know for sure that they'd care anyway. Not like they could do anything even if they did. We don't have to be secret."

Lysander sits up, gaze mildly sparkling with surprise. "You're not embarrassed of me?"

"What!? Of course not." Castiel lowers the cigarette. "Why would you think that?"

"You're defensive about things. When Lynn thought we were together when we weren't, you said you'd hit me if I were really interested in you." Lysander tents his fingers and lowers his eyes.

"I was exaggerating, obviously." Castiel sighs and takes another long drag. "And I guess...I don't know. I already had feelings for you then and it was confusing and stuff. You said you weren't sure if you were offended or not, what was I supposed to think about that?"

Lysander gives him a sheepish look. "It was a safe thing to say. I thought _you_ would be offended if you knew I cared for you."

Castiel crushes the cigarette out and leans against him, brushing his lips over his cheek. "You don't embarrass me. This isn't embarrassing. It's...Nice. Really nice."

"Poetic," Lysander jests, radiant smile curving his lips as he laces their fingers together.

"Hey. That's your department, not mine." Castiel squeezes his hand.

Nice really isn't the best word. He knows nice and this is a hell of a lot better than nice.

.

They stop themselves before they go too far, shirts already gone, faces flushed, hair tugged, lips bitten.

"Uh...I've never done it with a guy before," Castiel admits.

Fuck, does he know the mechanics of it, though. As soon as they were open, Rosalya gifted them with specialty lube and flavored condoms, sat them down and gave very, very detailed instructions and excruciating descriptions on all anal entailed. Apparently she was an expert enthusiast and had Leigh moaning like a bitch in heat over her sparkly, plastic dick (that she gladly showed them and shoved through the ring of a keychain to demonstrate the dangers of incorrect stretching) and that was more than he ever, ever wanted to know about her sex life, thank for the mental scars, Rosalya.

"I've never done it with anyone..." Lysander awkwardly runs a hand through his hair.

"Okay, so um...Are we...?"

"If you want..."

"Do you want to?"

"Yes, yes of course, I...I love you. I want to be with you." And way he says it sounds all breathlessly sentimental, but his eyes are ravenous on Castiel, carnal under the shade of uncertainty.

"Alright," says Castiel. "So...We can be blunt with each other right?"

"Do you not want to?" Lysander blinks rapidly, takes a step back. "We don't have to, I never, ever want to press—"

"No, no, I want to!" He glances down to the bulge in his boyfriend's pants. "I just...Look, Lysander, I've seen your dick. It's huge. You have this big Godzilla dick, so I should probably be on top. It won't take as long to...y'know, and since neither of us have ever done this before..."

Lysander's flush deepens to a glowing, stoplight red and he hides his face in his hands.

Okay, maybe he was a little too blunt. "Uh...Sorry."

"No, no, you're right...I absolutely do _not_ want to hurt you, so..." Lysander moves his hands down and a part of Castiel wants to take him to the hospital because to his knowledge, it's impossible for any human being to be that red.

"Are you okay?"

"...Godzilla?" he squeaks.

"It's a compliment," Castiel assures awkwardly. "I'm just not ready for that."

Lysander nods and fumbles with his belt. Seeing him nervous is an unusual occurrence. Normally not a good one but Castiel's nervous too. And for him at least, it's the good kind of nervous. The kind before you get on a roller coaster or sneak into a cinema.

Lysander slips his belt through the loops and does the rest, Castiel following suit. He climbs on Castiel's mattress and poises himself on his hands and knees, glancing back to him with an unsure smile.

Castiel takes a breath and nods, getting the lube out from beneath the bed.

"You sure you're ready?" he asks softly.

"Yes," breathes Lysander. "I am."

"Okay." Castiel pauses and instead of taking the lube, he leans over and presses his lips to Lysander's tattoo.

Lysander a laughs, a surprised, fluttery sound. "What are you doing?"

"Smooching your wings." He peppers each inked feather with a kiss and light, sunny laugher keeps bubbling from Lysander's lips and tickling his eardrums.

He squeezes out some lube when he's done and slides a finger inside him and the noise Lysander makes is very different from a laugh.

"Should I stop? Is it bad?"

"No. No, it's just different..." Lysander gives a shuddering exhale. "Keep going."

Castiel blinks. "Are you—"

"Please keep going."

A laugh of his own pops out of his mouth out of nowhere, shrill, bemused. He's twice as nervous as he was five seconds ago, he's already on the roller coaster at the zenith before the massive, whirlwind plummet.

"Alright," he says but he can't stop laughing.

.

They're on the floor, music floating through the background and Demon tearing apart a toy on the couch. He's still a little high, the world's edges are still kind of fluffy and his stomach is warm, but he's mostly just relaxed.

"Hey, Lys?"

"Hmm?"

"If the band thing doesn't work out, what are you gonna do?" Castiel tilts his head, peeks at him out of the corner of his eye.

"I'll still try to sing," Lysander says immediately. He must have thought about this before. "Even if I have to be a waiter at a jazz club, I'll take it if it means I can sing. Or I'll just record myself and try to sell songs on the internet. If I'm not successful doing any of that, I suppose I'll just work with Leigh at the store until I find something else."

"You ever think about college?" he asks.

"I have. I would be interested studying the arts, but I don't know whether I'll actually go or not." Lysander turns to him, gazes at him softly. "Are you worried it won't work out?"

"I don't know. M'not sure what I'll do if it doesn't." He rubs his hand over his face.

"Do you ever wish you would've went with Debrah anyway?"

Castiel pauses. He sits up and gives Lysander a closer look, sees the shadow of apprehension in his eyes.

"No way. I mean, she's only just making it. You see the stuff she's going to keep herself in the public eye? Taking her top off on stage, punching her girlfriend out in some parking lot, starting cyber wars with other bands. I wouldn't wanna be involved in any of that theatric, dramatic shit."

Lysander sits up and kisses him slow, tasting like weed and the salt and vinegar flavoring on the chips. "I'm glad. I don't think you should worry though. We're doing what we can and if it doesn't work out anyway, then it doesn't work out anyway. We'll still have tried."

"So even if the band thing doesn't work out...Are we still gonna work out?" He rubs the back of his neck.

"I'd rather lose the band than you."

Castiel almost cracks up because shit, that's gotta be one of the corniest things he's ever heard. It's the kind of line he hears in those mushy romance movies Lynn always drags him to. But he doesn't because Lysander sounds throughly sincere and looks at him like he's looking at some bleeding promise.

"I should be more worried about that," Castiel says. "You're the one who gets lost all the time."

Lysander feigns offense and pokes him in the nose. "Not all the time. Anyhow, you've gotten much better at finding me."

.

"What happened?" Lysander stares at the rip in his jeans, frown twisting his mouth at the ragged slash in his shin.

"Had to hop a barbwire fence to get this guy." Castiel jiggles the leash and the newly caught Demon innocently wags his tail.

"Is it deep?" He hovers, hands fluttering.

Castiel blushes and averts his gaze. "Nah. You don't need to go into wife mode."

Lysander makes a critical noise and leaves it at that. They still stop for soft serve on the walk back and Demon almost gets away from him again, whining urgently at a saint bernard on the other side of the street.

It's that time of year and he isn't neutered, so he's extra eager to break off the leash and go meet all the lady dogs.

Castiel sympathetically pats him on the head and then turns to Lysander, leaning over to lick a smudge of vanilla off the corner of his mouth.

"I was going to get that myself," declares Lysander but the grin in his voice means he doesn't mind a bit.

"You weren't quick enough."

Castiel eats half the cone and then gives the other half to Demon, unhooking the dog's leash and kicking the backyard gate open for him. It brushes his cut when it swings back and he involuntarily hisses.

"Will you let me look at that?" Lysander asks, but the look in his eyes says no matter how it's phrased, it isn't a question.

"Fine. Just don't baby me."

They head inside and he plops down on the couch while Lysander raids his bathroom. He comes back with supplies and makes a stop in the kitchen for a bowl and a washcloth. Castiel shifts a little and lets his pant leg be rolled up.

Lysander wrings the washcloth out and gingerly scrubs his cut. He then treats it to some antiseptic spray and Castiel can't help flinching. Lysander pauses.

"Does it hurt?"

"Hey, I said no babying." Castiel scowls.

Lysander blows a sound that might be a reprimand and unscrews the cap on the antibacterial goop. He scoops up a fat glob with a cotton swab and applies it attentively.

"You should be more careful."

"Says the guy who almost walked into traffic last week."

"I was lost in thought," Lysander defends.

"You're always lost in your thoughts." Castiel grunts and props his chin in his hand.

"Most of them are of you," hums Lysander.

This is another one of those lines that's so damn cheesy he could cringe and laugh at the same time, but he just can't because the way Lysander says it is so nonchalant, just there and plain and simple in a featherlight fondness. It's true. It's how he feels and knowing that, Castiel's face warms.

"Are you done yet?"

"Almost." Lysander takes the roll of gauze and meticulously wraps him up. He pushes his lips to the top of the bandage. "Now I'm done."

"Gonna fix my jeans next?" Castiel cracks a smile.

"That's Leigh's expertise, not mine." Lysander gets up and sits next to him, laying his head on his shoulder. "Do you shave your legs, by any chance?"

"What!? No!"

"Oh."

"Why are you even asking? I _have_ leg hair."

"Yes, but it's really fine and soft. More like fuzz, really."

"...I will shove you off this couch," Castiel warns.

"No you won't." Lysander tangles their fingers.

.

When classes are over and they're on their way to the basement, Lysander tips perilously to the side. Castiel grabs him by the arm only just fast to keep him from tumbling down the stairs.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." He steadies him and straightens him up, concern bubbling in his stomach. "What was that?"

"Nothing, I'm only a bit lightheaded..." Lysander blinks rapidly, squints like he's trying to focus.

Castiel frowns. "Did you forget to eat again?"

"Oh...Ah, that's it." Lysander graces him with an apologetic smile. "I didn't have breakfast because inspiration blessed me as soon as I woke up. Fleeting too, I had to follow it while I had it. At lunch Kentin borrowed me for some studying, so eating then slipped my mind."

"Did you bring lunch?"

"There's a box of graham crackers in my locker."

"Alright." Castiel sighs. "I'll go get them. Go sit down, huh? You had me nervous for a second there."

"Sorry." Lysander sheepishly dips his head and holds the railing as he goes down the steps.

Castiel shuffles back to his locker, only to find it locked. Raking a hand through his hair, he heads back to Lysander.

"What's your combination again?"

"I have it written down..." Lysander sits up a little straighter and opens his jacket, reaching into his pocket. "Oh."

"What's 'oh?'" Castiel raises a brow.

"I thought I had my notebook on me. I don't. It seems I've left it in my locker."

"Lysander!" Castiel groans and scoldingly nudges him with his foot.

"My mistake." Lysander gives him another apologetic smile, cheeks pinking.

"I'm sure I can go get you some chips or something. Just stay put, alright? I don't need you going into some hypoglycemic coma."

"I think you're exaggerating," Lysander says. "Though I would appreciate it."

Castiel leans down and briefly skims his lips over his temple. He heads back upstairs and just opens random lockers. It's not really stealing if Lysander needs it more. Besides that's just life, leave your locker open and someone steals your shit.

He would anyway, if anybody had any food to steal. He doesn't find any, so goes to the second floor to search empty classrooms. He finds Lynn first.

"Hey, do you have any food?"

"Food?" Lynn tilts her head quizzically.

"Yeah, the stuff you eat. Lysander hasn't had anything all day."

"Oh no, I don't have any snacks on me..." Her brow furrows.

He moves on and ducks into the science room. He does find something that might be rock candy, but it might also be the result of an experiment and he decides it's safer not to risk it. He finds a packet of oyster crackers in the media room though. With that he heads back to the first floor and pillages the other classrooms. He doesn't find anything, so he pops into the student council room.

That president's gotta have something stashed somewhere. He never leaves.

Unfortunately for Castiel, he can't look because said president is glued to a chair, reading something on a clipboard.

He glances up, glowers in greeting. "What do you want?"

"Food," he says. He wouldn't bother talking to him but he doesn't want his boyfriend to pass out and oyster crackers alone isn't much substance.

"This isn't the grocery store." Nathaniel goes back to reading.

"Um...I have a peppermint," Melody offers before Castiel can bite back. She's so still against the window, he hadn't even noticed her. She digs it out of her purse as she weaves around the table and holds it out to him.

"Oh, thanks. Lysander likes these." It's not exactly food, but it's something.

"It's for Lysander?" Nathaniel looks up again, hostility evaporated. "You should have lead with that." He pulls a paper bag out from under his chair and passes it over.

Prick. Castiel grunts and takes it anyway, peeking inside. There's a banana and some dried apricots in a plastic bag. It'll do. He doesn't thank him, but he nods to Melody before he dives out and trots back to the basement.

"It's not much but here." He kneels down and presents his haul.

Lysander perks up. "That's more than I expected. Where did you get all this?"

"Media room, Melody, Nat." He points to each snack in turn. "Surprisingly didn't have to steal from Nat this time. You feel okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Just a tad embarrassed." Lysander goes for the banana first and unzips the peel, biting off the tip. "Thank you."

Castiel crosses his arms. "Eating is something you have to remember."

"I usually do," says Lysander.

Lynn interrupts before Castiel can reply, jogging down the steps with a shopping bag around her arm. "Oh...I bought food, but I guess you already found some."

Displeasure folds Lysander's mouth and he looks back to Castiel. "You didn't ask her to spend her money on me, did you?"

"No!"

"No, he didn't," Lynn backs up immediately. "He didn't ask me, I just...Felt like it was one of my objectives."

"I appreciate the concern," Lysander says. "Though you really didn't have to."

"It's okay, I didn't spend much. Since I'm here, do you mind if I watch you guys play?" She blinks and then her face does something strange, fire blazing in her cheeks as she watches Lysander's mouth wrap around the banana. "Wait! N-Not that kind of play!"

Castiel snorts and flashes her a lewd look. "Better get out of here then. But leave the food."

.

He wakes up to the scent of lilac, dried sweat, and excessive fabric softener. The puddle of drool on Lysander's pillowcase is still damp against his lips and he feels the warmth of the blanket stop shortly above his ankles, uneven.

He opens his eyes and yawns, moving up just enough to brush the mess of hair out of his face.

"Good morning."

Castiel blearily glances to Lysander, majestic always with bedhead that never gets quite as unruly as his, eyes fleece and smile lazy.

"What're you looking at?" Castiel drops his head back to the pillow.

"You." He reaches out and smoothly tucks a lock of Castiel's hair back behind his ear. "Just you."

"How long you been doing that?"

"Mm...Ten minutes, maybe. Were you dreaming?"

"Don't remember." He blinks and lets go of another yawn. "What time is it?"

"I'm not sure," answers Lysander. "Early, probably. I haven't been up long."

"You got anything to do today?"

"I don't."

"Then let's stay here." Castiel wraps his arm around him and drags him close, angles himself him around him and pulls the blanket up.


End file.
